blog, creativity, Pat Aitcheson writes, writing process

How to Share Your Writing With the World (Even If It Scares You To Death)

Who owns the story you just wrote?
boy holding a Chinese lantern by pixel 2013
pixel 2013 via pixabay

Surely the words belong to you, right?

You found an idea and arranged the words to express that idea before putting them out in the world.

You spent time and effort making sure you’re adding something new to the conversation.

You’ve chosen to share it with the world, but it’s still yours.

Except that the moment you pressed publish, you lost control.

No Strings Attached

We’re trained to be polite when giving and receiving gifts. We learn to navigate the minefield according to unwritten rules, and if someone fails to play the game right we call foul.

When you send your work into the world, you expect it to be received with polite thanks at least, and effusive gratitude at best. But you fear bad things will happen and you’ll be powerless to do anything about it.

Your work, that gift for the reader that you laboured over, gets ignored, thrown to the ground and trampled on, or taken apart until it is shredded beyond recognition. You’re angry, disappointed, and afraid to risk trying again.

You must try again and change your attitude to giving.

We’re all adults and we know that many gifts don’t hit the spot. It’s on the recipient to decide what they do with the gift, and as long as you gave in good faith that’s where your influence ends.

If you’re giving what someone might need or use, give it freely. Don’t be that person who gives money but dictates what to buy with it. Don’t be that person who gets huffy when you don’t bring out their gift every time they visit.

All you can do is put enough time and effort into making sure you’ve created your best possible work.

After that, it’s time to forget expectations and cut the strings.

Lightly Not Tightly

A busy road separates my house from the main residential area. My son, then aged nine, wanted to cross the road and cycle to his friend’s house alone. I was worried; a girl had been killed on that road shortly after we moved in. I was acutely aware of all the potential hazards. At the same time, he was growing up and wanting more independence.

I had several options at that point:

  • Keep him at home
  • Let him go but only with a parent
  • Let him go alone

Many factors played into this decision but eventually, he would have to face the world without me beside him. My job as a parent was to teach him how.

Two of the hardest parenting lessons to learn are how and when to let go.

Stories are like children. You’re responsible for keeping them safe while they develop and giving them the tools to survive. But after that, they’re on their own.

Your story belonged to you. Now you must find a way to set it free with a light heart, rather than holding on too tight. Then, like your child leaving the nest, you give your words and creativity room to grow and fulfil their purpose.

 

Screen Shot 2019-01-07 at 23.46.23
pixel2013 via pixabay

Random Acts of Connection

I know that books seem like the ultimate thing that’s made by one person, but that’s not true. Every reading of a book is a collaboration between the reader and the writer who are making the story up together.
John Green

We write with a specific idea in mind, but that idea can spark many different connections in different minds.

Once I wrote a fictional argument between two gay men about authenticity. I received a long comment in return from a woman, married with children, who identified so strongly with one character that she was in tears reading it.

This was not the reaction I intended. But it told me that for one person at least the issues resonated, so strongly that she took the time to reply.

We write to connect. We can’t predict whether we connect or in what way, because each reader is unique. Each reader views the story through a unique lens shaped by personality and experience.

A story is different for everybody who reads it and the writer only owns the first version. The reader filters and changes your words, consciously or not. Their response has more to say about them and where they find themselves at that moment than the story itself.

The glory of a good tale is that it’s limitless & fluid; a good tale belongs to each reader in its own particular way.
Stephen King

So consider your story a child of your imagination. Make it as strong as you can. When it’s ready, send it into the world. Your story is outside your control now, and that’s as it should be.

Every child must walk its own path. Every story must make its own way.

Whether people react to your words with delight, anger, scorn, or tears, you’ve done your job. You made a connection. The outcome is not your responsibility as long as the story comes from a place of love, and a desire to share and receive something positive.

That also means that every story has the ability to change someone in ways you can’t predict. Who knows what comfort you can give to a person who can finally say, “That’s me, that’s how I feel.” If you can do that, why hesitate?

That’s the true worth of a story – the possibility of learning, wonder, and growth for writer and reader. Accept this responsibility and use your powers for good.

The world is waiting for your story.